


Fantasy

by hope_dresden



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Blood and Torture, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Master/Pet, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Somnophilia, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_dresden/pseuds/hope_dresden





	1. Chapter 1

I catch him at home this time. I creep in through the unlocked door and snake my arms around his middle. I leave a line of saliva down his neck as he whimpers. I grind my pelvis into his ass and pin him to the table. He shivers underneath me as I make quick work of his pants and knock his legs apart.

 

I didn’t bring any toys, but I had my fingers. I rub his labia, feeling how moistened it already was. I purr some words into his ear, about how wet he was, about how much his body was already enjoying it. He flushes with shame, trying to press his face into the desk. I twist his body around, so he looks up at me instead.

 

“Don’t be ashamed,” I murmur. “You might even like it.” I bite into his neck, listening to his whining. I place my fingers inside him, fondling one clothed breast with my other hand. He arches his back at the sudden intrusion. I smile at the movement. I pump my fingers in and out and quiet his cries with kisses.

 

His body quivers below mine. I laugh slightly and hover above him. His eyes are scared - no, terrified - as he looks up at me. I pat his head and make him orgasm with my fingers. His face twists and his body twitches, letting out a soft moan. “Stay there,” I tell him. “I’m going to make you feel good.”

 

I kneel down between his legs and lap at his opening. He gasps, bucking. I grip his hips, almost bruisingly. I curve my tongue in his folds, listening to the little sounds he makes. I push my tongue into him, making him let out a gasp and grip the side of the table. I move it around, dexterously as possible, pressing into his most sensitive spots. He orgasms again, grinding into my face this time.

 

I smirk into his opening and add my fingers again. At this point, he’s a gasping, dripping mess. How easily he’s come undone at my touch. I coax him to orgasm again, his legs quivering. His eyes are glassy and his skin has a sheen of sweat. I kiss him again, pulling him upright and away from the table. I pull him towards the special room, removing his shirt on the way.

 

He stands in the middle of the chilly room, shivering. “Present yourself,” I order him softly. He quickly goes to do that, obviously not wanting to make it any worse on himself. I bring out a dildo, kissing it for good luck, and lube it up. I press it against the other entrance, the one we haven’t used yet. I gently work it into him. His breath hitches and he looks back at me, eyes wide with fear and wariness. 

 

I push it all the way in, listening to him let out a cry. I press his upper body into the floor. He writhes, so I tie him down with some ropes. Wriggling, he keeps trying to escape, only to be rebuked again and again by me. I pump the dildo in and out, in and out. “Be a good boy,” I tell him. He whimpers and tries to go still. He orgasms again, legs twitching. I drink in the sight.

 

I put on a strap on, the dark-colored dildo hanging smoothly between my legs. I gently flip him over, untying a few of the ropes to make it easier on him. I give him sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along his neck and collarbone, then align myself to enter. Then, I quickly do.

 

He gasps and arches his back, but I take no time. I pump my hips in and out, crashing my hips to his quite a few times. I smile down at him, even as he devolves into a moaning mess. I rub my thumb across his lower lip, leaning down to catch it between my teeth. He gasps and arches against me, sliding deeper onto the strapon. His eyes roll back and his gasp turns into a moan.

 

He relaxes underneath me after his next orgasm. At this point, I’ve lost track of how many he’s had. He lets me fuck into him, twitching as he orgasms again and again. There are tears streaking down his face and I decide to take pity on him and stop.

 

He’s covered in a sheen of sweat, gasping and panting. His face is flushed, tear tracks running down his face. His chest heaves with every breath, like it takes a great amount of effort to breathe. I pet his face. He whines and tries to lean into my touch, but I withdraw my hand. I shush him by placing a finger on his lips.

 

“No sound now,” I murmur. “Unless you want me to leave you here?”

 

He chokes on his words and shakes his head violently. I smile and pat his cheek. I untie him and pull him closer to me, kissing him deeply. He doesn’t return it until I push his head into mine. I push my tongue into his mouth, met with minimal resistance. I tugged his head back, using his hair as leverage as I kissed up and down the column of his neck.

 

He wriggles, gasping. I chuckled and bit into his neck, nibbling on the sensitive skin there. “Hush,” I whisper into his skin. “You’ll have time for that later.”

 

His hands, shaky and fearful but searching, grasp at my waist and grope for the hand of my shirt. “That too,” I tell him, half-amused. ”But you’ve got to understand that you have to earn that,”

 

He lets out a small whimper as I yank him closer to me. He’s breathless and tired, but I don’t care or mind. He still has so much work to do. His eyes flutter closed and his pulse quickens beneath my fingers. “Good boy,” I tell him softly, petting his face.

 

\---

There’s a time jump, maybe a few days later, when I pounce again. I give him a bit of warning, of course, but not enough for him to fight me. He struggles for a few minutes, but eventually goes limp, knowing that I’m too strong for him.

 

I carry him into the room, feeling smug and victorious. His arms sway in the air as I move, his face slack but obviously uncomfortable. I suppose it came from the fact I was carrying him like a sack of potatoes.

 

I place him on the ground, tying his wrists together behind his back. I place open-mouth kisses along his back and neck, listening to him whimper and whine. His body stiffens when I lick his neck, sitting behind him and pulling him into my lap.

 

I whisper sweet nothings into his ear, my hand drifting down to the spot between his legs. He quivers on my lap, terror in every movement. “You’re going to be fine,” I croon. “It shouldn’t hurt at all.”

 

I stimulate his folds, biting into his shoulder. He lets out a cry and arches his back, pressing into me. He whimpers and shifts on my lap, seeming to be uncomfortable. I insert one finger and ease it in and out, careful of the position we were in. It would do no good to have a cramped hand.

 

I add another finger, picking up the pace. He whines, twisting his head to look at me with his large, dewy eyes. I smile at him, pressing a kiss to his pouting lips. He whimpers into my mouth as I add yet a third finger. He tries to pull his head away from me, but I follow him, keeping our lips firmly pressed together.

 

I taste the salt of tears before I finally let him go. “Be a good boy and cum,” I whisper to him. He’s shaking and crying as he does, his body shaking with the effort. He slumps over in my arms, letting out a soft sob.

 

I lick the tears from his cheeks, withdrawing my fingers from his body. I press them against his lips. “Clean up your mess,” I tell him. Hesitant, he laps at my fingers. When I press them into his mouth, pushing them past his teeth, he eagerly begins to clean them, as to avoid my ire.

 

“Good boy,” I croon. I let him crawl out of my lap and onto the cold, hard floor. He twists his arms around, desperately trying to get free of the bindings. I chuckled and pat his head before yanking the bindings off of him.

 

“We’ll have the chance for plenty of fun next time,” I tell him sweetly, leaving him in the cold to recover.

 

\---

Another skip, this time being perhaps a week. This time, I drag him into the private room without warning, while he’s still groggy with sleep. By the time he wakes out of his stupor, I’ve already tied him up in a rather intricate, impressive show of ropework.

 

He whines, flexing his body and trying to stretch to no avail. I step out of the shadows and press the dildo-shaped vibrator I’m holding in my hand to his groin, making him gasp with shock. I turn it on, watching him writhe in his bindings. His eyes go wide and his mouth gapes.

 

His abdominal muscles flex as he reaches his first orgasm. He lets out a breathless moan, lips forming words but no sound coming out. I reach out and cusp one of his buttocks, giving it a firm squeeze. His face reddens, likely with embarrassment.

 

“Good boy,” I tell him. “Do it again.” He whimpers as I force the tip of the vibrator inside of him. His legs quiver and his face twitches, eyes rolling around in their sockets. He orgasms again, whining.

 

“P-please,” he whispers, face pale and sweaty. “Please let me go. I’ll be good!” I let out a tsk, pressing the vibrator deeper into him. His eyes widen and his body stiffens again. He opens his mouth to speak.

 

His words turn into a gasp, which in turn make a moan. His head falls forward. He pants, letting out a short scream as I turn up the vibrator’s intensity. He writhes some more, trying to escape from the mounting pressure. I let go of his ass, running my free hand down his leg with a light touch.

 

He wriggles as I tickle him. I then turn my attention to his breasts, massaging it and rubbing the nipple. When it gets hard, I toy with it. He bucks and moans, letting out a soft gasp as I take my hand away. I kiss the sole of his foot, turning up the vibrator again.

 

He orgasms again, muscles twitching and face twisting. His nostrils flare and his head hangs. He goes still as I press the vibrator up to the hilt inside of him. His body is covered in a sheen of sweat by now, quivering with exertion. His hair is sticking to his neck and face with sweat, his mouth moving without sound.

 

He orgasms a fourth time before I turn the vibrator off. I remove it from his body and wipe it off, placing it to the side.

 

I kiss the inside of his thigh, licking up a mix of cum and sweat. I trail my fingers over his swollen, overstimulated crotch and listen to his whimpers. I untie him and ease him onto the floor, but his legs collapse instantly beneath him. I pet his face and kiss his unresponsive lips. I curl my fingers around his neck, feeling the feathery pulse below it. Then, I go.

 

\---

I creep into the room he’s sleeping in, watching his soft, sleeping face. The strapon fits tightly to my hips, the dildo falling between my legs. I watch his face move with a dream, nose flaring and mouth twitching. I ghost my hands across his naked body. Then, I come to rest my hands on his thighs.

 

I move them apart, stopping as he stirs a bit. He settles back into sleep after a few moments, eyes fluttering. I smile and gently rub his labia, as to not wake him. I kneel down to kiss his inner thigh, lapping at the skin there. He lets out a soft moan in his sleep, fisting the blanket underneath him.

 

I make sure he’s nice and wet before I ease the dildo into him. He gasps, but still doesn’t wake up. His body arches, displaying his breasts and neck for me. Even in sleep, he’s instinctually submissive to me.

 

My fingers trail up to his neck. I hold it, gently, in my hand. If I squeezed hard enough, I could kill him. However, that wasn’t my goal. I just wanted to see how well he could handle our usual play while he was sleeping.

 

I slowly but surely begin to thrust my hips. My hand still rests on his neck as I do, keeping track of his racing heartbeat. A sweat breaks out over his forehead and he lets out little gasps. Then, he wakes up as I pick up the pace.

 

Tired, wild eyes rove around the room before landing on me. I smile down at him, quickening my pace to as fast as I physically could. He gasped as my other hand took hold of one of his breasts. His legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

 

I chuckled. “Aren’t you enjoying this?” I asked, amused. “After all, I snuck into your room and began to touch you without permission.” His face reddened and his mouth opened, as if he was going to make an objection to my statement. Then he thought better of it and fell silent.

 

I played with his nipple, gently squeezing his throat. Not enough to hurt or strangle him, but enough to give an exciting amount of pressure. His legs spasmed around me as he came not once, but twice in quick succession.

 

I pull the dildo out of him. He whines at the sudden loss, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “Oh, so now you want me to fuck you?” I roll my eyes and pull his face down to slap it against his lips. “Clean it up and maybe next time I’ll be nice,” I told him.

 

Hurriedly, he took the whole thing into his mouth, nearly choking. He sucks it, licking and rubbing against it. He looks back up at me with wide, worried eyes. I pet his face and leave him in that room, going to put the strap on away.

 

\---

I stormed into the room, grabbing him by the hair and yanking him into the private basement. He yelped, but went along with me. Perhaps he was trying too hard to please me, but at this point it didn’t matter. I was stressed and angry and needed to work it off.

 

I grab the double-ended strapon and put it on. I was already naked and prepared for it, so it slid easily inside as I clipped the straps together. I throw him onto the mattress, which is new and hardly used, and press his face into the bed.

 

I barely allow him to breathe as I shove the other dildo into him. I pound in and out in quick succession. I only realize he’s orgasmed when he screams loud enough to be heard from the mattress.

 

I keep driving into him, panting heavily as the dildo inside me bounces around and hits my sensitive spot again and again. I pick up my pace, until I’ve reached my orgasm and came myself. With that, my body goes slack and I pant heavily. Slowly, I come to realize I’m crushing my pet into the mattress.

 

He whimpers below me, able to breathe now that I’m no longer shoving his face into the bed. He looks up at me, terror in his eyes. I slowly lever myself up, pulling the dildo out of him. He hesitantly approaches to nuzzle at my thighs, obviously worrying if it was his fault. I pet his face and remove the dildo.

 

Though it wasn’t his fault for my anger, I let him make it up to me. He uses his hands and tongue expertly, hitting my sensitive spot. For the second time that day, I reach my height and orgasm.

 

I let out a sigh in our post-coital state. He’s nestled right next to my side, quivering. “How about I make it up to you, too?” I mused, poking his leg.

 

He frowned, eyes fearful and concerned. Then, he hesitantly opened his legs and let me touch him. I lubricate my fingers on the leftovers from his last orgasm, then work to open his ass.

 

He gasps at the intrusion, looking at me with wide eyes. I smile and place a hand on his knee. “It’s going to be alright,” I coo. “I’ll make you cum again, see? I’ll replace your pain with pleasure.” His head falls back at my words, trusting me completely and entirely. Whether or not that would be good or bad, we’d have to find out.

 

I pump my fingers again and again, being gentle this time. He helped me work off my stress, so it’s only best I returned in kind. Within minutes, his back arches and his soft moans turn into a loud gasp. He licks his own cum off of my fingers, eyes clouded and low-lidded. I smile down at him and leave the room to wash up.

 

\---

I watch as he wakes up, chained down to the floor. He whimpers, looking around as best he can. Again, the dildo hangs between my legs and slowly, I approach him.

 

“Present yourself,” I tell him, my voice gentle. He worries at his lip, but does as I tell him to. Good. It’ll make it easier on him. I kneel on the ground behind him, lining up the dildo to enter him. He whimpers as it slides home, but otherwise doesn’t complain. In all honesty, I expected him to fight more.

 

I place soft, open-mouthed kisses down his spine before I grip his hips and begin to fuck him. He lets out a little hiss at the sudden movement, but grits his teeth and clamps down on any noise.

 

I start out slow, letting him get accustomed to the size. His hands curl into fists on the floor, letting out gasps when I pick up speed. Tears build up in his eyes and spill down his cheeks and onto the floor, creating little dark dots on the concrete.

 

I push all the way into him, reaching to cup his face in my hand. “It’s okay,” I tell him as gently as I can. “You don’t have to cry. I said I would be gentle this time, right?”

 

He nods, but stayed silent and kept crying. Frowning, I kept fucking him, hoping his orgasm would make him stop with this nonsense. I hit his sensitive spot, making him gasp and quiver in my hold. He orgasmed quickly enough, struggling to keep himself presented.

 

I sigh, slightly irritated. He whimpered from where he barely stood, arms and legs shaking. I pull the dildo out of him, letting him collapse to the floor. I stand up and loom over him.

 

“Get up and clean this mess up,” I ordered, taking the strapon off. I hadn’t even orgasmed - a pity. “I might let you make up your patheticness up to me if you,” He pales at the underlying threat.

 

I unchain him and let him stand. He hurries to clean up, then sits before me, looking up at me with scared eyes.

 

“Pleasure me,” I said. “Bring me to orgasm like I brought you to orgasm.” Grimacing, he does exactly that. He inserts his fingers and licks up at my labia, swiftly bringing me to one of the most intense orgasm of my entire life.

 

“Good boy,” I tell him, patting his head. Then, without a single word, I turned around and left him in the room, alone.

  
  


\---

I wrapped my arms around him, pinning them to his sides. He lets out a yelp of shock and surprise, struggling in my grip. I bite down on his shoulder, which halts his movements and makes him stop. He lets out a low whine as I carry him to the private basement, hung over my shoulder.

 

I place him on the table, tying his body down. I place a dildo in his ass and a vibrator in his vagina, turning them up gradually. The reaction is immediate. I watch as his body twitches and quivers with the vibrations.

 

A sweat breaks out across his skin, his withheld moans breaking through and getting louder and louder. His body writhes on the table, seeking an escape that isn’t there. I smile lazily and run my fingers and hands over his exposed skin. When he nearly reaches orgasm, I turn off the vibrators.

 

He lets out a choked cry, looking at me with desperation in his eyes. “Please,” he groans. “Please, I was so close! Please let me cum,”

 

I shook my head. “You get to cum when I say you can cum,” I replied calmly. I waited two, three, five minutes before turning the vibrators on. Again, when he nearly reached orgasm, I turned the vibrators off once more. He panted, tears welling up in his eyes.

 

This happened again and again, his body twitching and his eyes rolling all around in his head. His tears were long gone by now, replaced by sweat and loud pants. His body is slackened, slouching against the table. His begging was replaced by soft, tired cries of pain.

 

“Do you want to cum now, boy?” I ask softly, reaching over to touch him. He flinches away, shaking his head vehemently at my question. I raise my brow. “You wanted it before now, what happened?” I muse, running my fingers between his breasts, down his stomach, to his groin.

 

He gulps. I smile dangerously, turning up the vibrator again. His body seizes, wriggling on the table as he finally reaches his orgasm. Then another, and a third, and suddenly he’s orgasming far too many times for one session, even for us.

 

After his tenth or so orgasm, I turn off the vibrators and remove them from his body. There’s a small puddle around his hips now. He looks as if he’s going to faint, but I lightly smack his cheek to keep him awake and his attention on me.

 

“Don’t beg me if you can orgasm again,” I tell him. “Do you understand the consequences now?” He gives me a slow, jerking nod. I smile and pat his cheek. “Now, do you want to get out of here?” Again, he nods. Obligingly, I untie him and let him roll off of the table onto the ground.

 

\---

I push him onto the table again, smiling. “If you don’t move too much, it won’t hurt,” I tell him. I light the candle, waiting for a pool of wax to form. Meanwhile, a bucket of ice water sits nearby, awaiting use. He eyes me warily, as he should be.

 

When there’s enough wax, I pour it onto his skin. He lets out a yelp, nearly jumping off of the table. He glares at me, even as the wax is cooling. It’s not hot enough to burn, of course, but painful enough.

 

I smile at him and wipe off the wax. I take a single ice cube and place it on the spot where the wax was. He winces at first, then sighs with slight relief. Then, as I keep the ice there, he gets restless and looks at me, whining.

 

I remove the ice and get a fresh cube, pushing it up and into his vagina. He lets out a hiss of shock, nearly shooting up into a sitting position. However, I keep him pressed down to the table. He whines and looks at me, his legs flexing as if to try and push the ice cube out.

 

“Don’t push it out,” I chide. “I’ll just put another in if you do,” His face twists in a grimace and stops. His legs become still, though there are still some minute twitches from the chill. I drip wax across his stomach in a thin, drippy line. He lets out a groan, eyes flicking between me and the candle. Eventually his eyes flutter closed.

 

I pat his cheek, jolting him out of his stupor. “Stay awake like a good boy,” I croon down at him. He flinches, but keeps his eyes open as I wipe the last of the wax off. “Stand up and pick a whip, would you?” He winces at the implication, but obediently gets up and fetches one. The one he brings back is a single-tailed, relatively small one. It’s sufficient enough for tonight.

 

“Position yourself,” I order. He quickly gets on his knees, placing his hands on them. He rests his buttocks on his heels. “How many lashes, do you think?” I muse.

 

Hesitantly, he puts up five fingers. I tilt my head, considering. “Yes, I suppose five is enough as a reprimand for almost falling asleep, isn’t it?”

 

His body flinches, but he nods. I don’t need to see his face to know that he’s sporting a grimace. I lay the first lash down on his back. He cries out, lurching forward from the impact. I wait until he’s gathered himself up again before hitting him once more. Two long, large parallel welts have sprouted on his back, bleeding in some places.

 

“Three more to go,” I tell him. He is panting, sweat rolling down his neck. He gives me a shallow nod, even though I do not need it at all. Thus, I hit him a third time. This one went perpendicular, creating a sort of large H on his back. This one made him just rock forward. I could practically hear him grinding his teeth from where he sat on the floor.

 

The fourth went perpendicular to the third, which made it look like more an X over two other lines. The last was parallel to the first two, creating a pretty sort of pattern on his back.

 

I snap my fingers. He leaps to his feet as quickly as he is able, snatching the whip from my fingers and putting it away. He watches me warily, eyes tracking my every movement. “Get back on the table,” I tell him. “Facedown this time,” Hesitantly, he does as I say. When he doesn’t go fast enough, I smack his back as to encourage him to move faster.

 

He yelps at the pain and hurries to get on top of the table. I get a handful of ice and rub it into his back - gently, at first, as to not aggravate the wounds too much, but eventually I press it into the cuts. He lets out a whine, his shoulders twitching as if he was going to move.

 

“Don’t move,” I tell him, pushing his shoulder down. I can see tears starting well up in his eyes at the pain, dripping down onto the smooth wooden table. The ice is already beginning to melt, the water running in rivulets down his back and over his sides.

 

He whines loudly at me. I shake my head subtly, having him sit up. I bind his wrists together with handcuffs, then cover his eyes. He inhales when I put the earmuffs on. Tears and sweat begin to soak into the blindfold.

 

I drip the wax onto his shoulder, not touching him at all. It hits and cools almost instantly, making him let out a soft noise of shock and pain. I drip some on his other shoulder next, watching him flinch. I wipe it off with a rag, immediately placing ice on the burned spot. He lets out a cry, trying - and failing - to wrench himself away from me.

 

I watch as the ice melts against his skin, then press another into his vagina. He yelps, blindly striking out. I catch his hands before they hit me, of course, but the intention is still there. I narrow my eyes sharply at him, even though he can’t see.

 

He stills, quivering. “Sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking, barely audible though deafening in the silence of the room. I pat his head and pour wax onto his arm. He lets out a whimper. I press a kiss to his lips, pushing my tongue into his mouth and wrestling for control. The kiss is only held for a few moments before I wipe off the wax and place ice down.

 

Then, after the ice melts, I step away and leave him be, melting more wax. He gets antsy quite quickly, calling my name, reaching out for me. He gets nothing but air and nearly throws himself off the table, naturally.

 

I sigh and drip some more wax on him, watching it run down his skin. He shivers and whimpers and cries out again, but I cover his mouth with one hand. He whines into my hand as I wipe away the half-solid wax.

 

I place the ice on the burned spots, watching them melt and collect in his collarbone’s cavities. I lap his damp skin, making him shiver and try to scoot away from me. I chuckle and place open-mouthed kisses all along his neck and collarbone.

 

He goes still as I trail my finger along his labia. I insert my finger, touching him nowhere but there. He bucks his hips after a few moments, letting out a cry as I add another. I curl my fingers in just the right way and there’s a rush between my fingers, signifying his orgasm. I remove the earmuffs and blindfold, making him blink at the sudden light change. I blow out the candle and leer at him.

 

“Pleasure me,” I order, pulling his head closer between my legs. He quickly pulls my shorts down, using his fingers and tongue to get at my sensitive spots. I grip his hair as I reach my orgasm, then look at his face, covered in my slick. “Clean this all up,” I tell him.

 

Then, the dream ends.


	2. Chapter 2

I coast my hand down his back. He shivers but turns on the water as I tell him to. All he’s wearing is an apron, exposing the rest to me. His lips are chapped and his eyes are wide with worry. I cup one of his buttocks in my hand, squeezing it roughly. His ears redden and he lets out a soft noise, looking torn between pushing back and pulling away.

 

I chuckle and bring out the first toy. This one is a small dildo, slathered thickly with lube. I spread his buttocks, pressing it against his hole. Then, I begin to push it into him. He lets out a whimpering noise, shaky hands washing the dishes as I told him to do. “You’re taking it so well,” I murmur. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

 

He gives me a jerky nod, scrubbing a plate before rinsing it off and putting it on the drying rack. I watch as his face reddens more and more as I slowly thrust the dildo in and out of him.  Before long, his face is completely flushed and he keeps making these little noises. Perhaps they’re of pain or discomfort, but I am hoping they are of pleasure.

 

He continues to wash the dishes. His hands are shaky as he puts them to dry. He nearly drops a plate, but it falls onto the toweled surface, bounces once, and doesn’t break. He glances back at me, giving me a worried look.

 

“Keep working,” I tell him. “If you do a good job, I’ll let you eat dinner with me.” His eyes widen at my underlying meaning and he gets to work, faster than before. Meanwhile, I keep thrusting the dildo in and out of him.

 

I tilt it just right and he lets out a gasp, arching his back as his first orgasm hits. He grips the edge of the counter, panting. His body half-curls on itself, but he straightens himself soon after. He begins to wash the dishes again, while I take the dildo out and get a vibrator to push into his vagina.

 

He flinches slightly at the cold intrusion and quivers when I turn it on. He continues to do the dishes, his hands getting shakier and shakier. He continues to look back at me for support and to plead with me without words. His skin is already turning pink, sweat forming on his back and neck.

 

I smile at him and turn up the vibrations by one. He yelps, nearly jumping out of his skin. His head drops and he begins to pant. Sweat rolls down his neck in little beads, his skin flushed. His mouth parts a bit, letting me hear his quickened breaths.

 

I grope his buttocks again, licking a stripe up his neck. He lets out a low whimpering sound, grinding his teeth together. I chuckle, my lips pressed against his neck, and tease one of his breasts with one hand. He whines again, seeming desperate for both some relief and for more.

 

He ends up bucking against my groin, grinding his ass into my crotch. I laugh and gently ease him away. “Down, boy,” I tell him. “There’s plenty of time for that.” He whines and looks at me pleadingly. I pat his head. “Continue washing the dishes.”

He does. I watch him as he bites his lip to contain his moans and clench his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Slowly but surely, he continues to get through the small mountain of dirty dishes. Behind him, I lube up another toy.

 

I press the tapered end of the butt plug against his other free hole, making him squeak in surprise. I push it in, working it into his cavity. His back arches and he lets out a moan. He head lolls back, but only for a moment. Then, he gets back to work with the dishes. Before long, the drying rack is full and he has to put all the clean dishes away.

 

He limps slightly as he does, twitching minutely as he moves. He dries off the leftover water, putting them away quickly to avoid my ire. He glances back at me, looking for reassurance. In return, I give him a slight nod.

 

He returns to the dishes, his body wracked with shivers as he orgasms again. He nearly drops a glass, barely catching it in time. He rights himself and clenches the brush so hard his knuckles turn pale. He continues to scrub them, swallowing every few moments.

 

I place my hand delicately on his shoulder, pressing kisses onto his neck. He whines at my touch, trying to lean into it. I remove my hands and he squeezes his eyes shut, lips parting to almost complain before he stops himself.

 

He gulps as I press the dildo firmer into him. He shifts, seeming uncomfortable. I make him turn his head, catching his lower lip in mine. I kiss him roughly, grinding my hips into him. He whines and bucks into me, letting me flip him around and push him against the counter.

 

He gasps as he reaches his next orgasm, which stains the apron with moisture. He moans into my mouth, returning the kiss with a fiery passion. I grab his hair, yanking it back and mouthing against his exposed skin along his neck. I pull the apron up, grabbing and groping his groin, searching for his most intimate external spot.

 

He yelps at the new element that I’ve added. Behind him, the dishes have been forgotten, the dirty plates and bowls and cups staring back up at me. Ignoring the dishes now, I bury my face in his neck and suck on the skin. His hands get tangled in my hair, making me laugh as I make a hickey on his neck.

 

“You’ve been such a good boy,” I whisper, planting kisses around the hickey. He moans, trying to buck up into me. “Don’t you want to make me feel good too?”

 

He looks at me with large, round eyes. He bites his lower lip, then gently falls to his knees. He unbuttons my pants and pulls down my panties, looking up at me for reassurance and consent. I smile glibly at him and gesture towards my groin. “Dig in, boy.”

 

He does so eagerly, spreading my folds and lapping at me. I buck my hips into his face, grinding my labia against his lips. His tongue slides into my cavity, pressing up and twisting for my most sensitive spot. My fingers curl in his hair. My legs quiver as I let out a moan. I hunch over, trying to get the most amount of pleasure out of it.

 

His fingers enter me, curling in a way that makes me groan. He hits the spot, again and again, a hammer in my pelvis that shoots white sparks of pleasure in my vision. I barely let him breathe as I reach my first orgasm.

 

He falls away from me, licking his lips. He looks up at me, eyes innocent and wide. A coil of heat rises in my stomach at his expression and I shudder, already getting aroused again. I make him stand up and continue to do the dishes.

 

I interchange the butt plug with a small dildo. I watch him shudder and moan as I push it in, with him rolling his hips to greet it like an old friend. He fucks himself back onto the toy, shivering. Sweat coats his entire body, starting to soak through the apron. I bite my lip, reaching between his legs to remove the vibrator.

 

I replace it with my fingers. I thrust them in and out, watching his muscles flex under his skin. He lets out a moan, meeting my every thrust. “Keep washing the dishes,” I whisper to him. I press a kiss to his fluttering buttock, leaving a stripe of spit on it.

 

He does as I tell him, whimpering every once and a while when I graze that certain spot of his. I use my thumb to stimulate his clitoris, too. Eventually, he lets out a cry as his muscles clench around me. I feel a rush of liquid down my fingers and my arm.

 

I stand up and press my fingers to his lips. He opens his mouth willingly, letting me put my fingers on his tongue. His lips seal around my fingers, sucking on them in an erotic fashion. I bite my lip to stop a moan, grinding back into him again. My eyes flutter closed as I manage a second orgasm.

 

I hear the water turn off and open my eyes. All of the dishes are done. I pout, taking my fingers from his mouth and crossing my arms. “We can extend our little fun time,” I suggested. “Put away the dishes first, though.”

 

I put a remote controlled vibrator into him, flashing the remote to him. His face reddens as he hurries to put the dishes away. I won’t turn it on just yet. The fun for that will come later rather than sooner. But he’d enjoy it - hopefully, anyway.

 

We go into the living room together, now suitably dressed for casual living inside, which is to say nearly nothing. He snuggles into my side as I turn on a rom-com. He’s tense beside me, hyperaware of the toys stuffed inside him.

 

As the movie gets past the intro, I turn up the vibrations by one setting. He shudders, burying his face in my neck. I chuckle as he kisses my neck to ignore the vibrations. He’s so cute when he acts like this. He shivers again, grinding into the couch and trying to find friction. I pat his head, lying a kiss on his hair.

 

“What should we have for dinner?” I ask, focusing on the movie. He shudders, giving me a weak shrug. He sits up, leaning away from me to sit on his own.

 

“Spaghetti?” He offers weakly. I smile and nod my head. Spaghetti sounds good for dinner. I turn up the vibrations a notch, making him let out a soft squeak in surprise. His fluids have already soaked through the couch covering, meaning we’d have to get it washed soon.

 

He quivers next to me, trying to keep himself contained. He bites his lip, always throwing glances at me. His body is constantly wracked by shudders at irregular intervals. His eyes flutter closed as his breathing picks up. He shifts on the chair again, while I reach my arm across his shoulder and pull him closer.

 

He lets out a low whine at the sudden shift of the toy inside him. I place my hand on his knee, creeping up his skirt. He whimpers at my touch, looking as if he wanted to both retreat and to push back against me to get more pleasure. I chuckle at his torn expression, resting my hand on his thigh and moving no further.

 

I turn the vibrator to the highest setting, making him gasp audibly and buck up against my hand. “P-please,” he begs, his voice barely a whisper. “I… I need to, to-” he cuts himself off as he does the thing he just needed to do; cum.

 

I nuzzle his neck, pressing a kiss against the sensitive skin there. His cum seeps into the couch as his head lolls back and he looks up at the ceiling, letting out a moan. His body is boneless now, even as I press my hand against his groin.

 

“You need to what?” I purr, pressing my mouth against his neck. He moans wordlessly, pushing his hips into my hand. “You need to cum? I’ll let you cum.”

 

I find his sensitive external spots, rubbing against him there. He cries out suddenly, lurching forward and digging his fingers into my arm. I raise my brows but continue to stimulate him. He pants heavily, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. I feel his muscles flutter again as he reaches his next consecutive orgasm.

 

Satisfied, I turn off the vibrator and let him remove it. Then, I start thinking about dinner.


End file.
